European Elegies/Autumn (2)/Nocturne
97.NOCTURNE
The windmill's pinions no longer flutter,The river mirrors the eyes of night,Soft flower-lips their orisons utter,Tree-tops whisper in hushed delight.
Priests now kindle their tapers pale,Grey-robed sisters meek vespers sing,Kneeling children fold fingers frail,Swans hide their bills in a snowy wing.
Soon comes rest to all the weary,Heavy heads are pillowed deep;All released from their grey griefs dreary,Slumber and sleep and dream and sleep.
From the Norwegian of Sigbjörn Obstfelder.